The infirmary existed in a pocket of perpetual twilight, where essence-threaded curtains filtered
the afternoon light into gentle amber streams that danced across walls lined with healing herbs
and crystalline essence amplifiers. The air carried the mingled scents of silverleaf and
moonblossom—traditional remedies that had been used to treat essence overextension for
centuries. Each breath seemed to carry healing properties, drawing the scattered fragments of
overtaxed power back into harmony.
Shion Enther lay on one of the recovery beds, his silver-blue hair spread across a pillow that
hummed with restorative energy. The cut on his forehead had been sealed with
essence-enhanced healing paste, leaving only a thin line that would fade within days. But the
deeper exhaustion—the bone-deep weariness that came from pushing his Spectral Refrain
ability far beyond its safe limits—would take longer to mend.
His teal eyes opened slowly, focusing on the crystalline formations that hung from the ceiling like
frozen tears. Each one pulsed with soft light, their rhythm synchronized to his heartbeat as they
worked to stabilize his essence flows. The familiar sensation of his ability was there, but
muted—like trying to hear whispers through thick glass.
"About time you decided to rejoin the living."
Shion turned his head to find Takumi Leo sprawled in a chair beside his bed, the redhead's
golden eyes bright with relief despite his casual tone. His crimson hair still showed faint traces
of the flickering flame effect that appeared when his emotions ran high, and his training clothes
bore scorch marks from where his Essence Flare had responded to the stress of seeing his
friend defeated so thoroughly.
"How long was I unconscious?" Shion asked, his voice hoarse from the healing teas the medical
staff had administered while he slept.
"About three hours," Kairo replied from his position leaning against the wall, his amber eyes
holding their usual warmth despite the concern that flickered beneath. His ember-orange hair
caught the filtered light as he moved closer to the bed. "The healers said you pushed yourself
harder than they'd seen from someone your age. Apparently, maintaining that many spectral
echoes simultaneously can cause something called 'temporal feedback'—your ability started
showing you echoes of echoes, creating an infinite loop that nearly burned out your essence
channels entirely."
"That would explain why I felt like I was fighting in a hall of mirrors toward the end," Shion said
with a rueful smile. "Every movement I made seemed to ripple outward into dozens of possible
variations."
"Nayen Krayth is dangerous," Takumi said bluntly, his voice carrying an edge of protective anger
that his friends recognized. "I've faced aggressive opponents before, but there was something
calculating about the way she dismantled your strategy. Like she'd been studying echo-type
abilities specifically."
Before Shion could respond, the infirmary's entrance curtain parted to admit a familiar figure.
Itsuki Naoya entered with his characteristic calm presence, but his ice-blue eyes held depths of
concern that spoke to the strength of their friendship. His white hair seemed to catch and hold
the amber light filtering through the room, and the thin scar over his left eyebrow was more
prominent in the healing chamber's soft illumination.
"How are you feeling?" Itsuki asked as he approached the bed, his voice carrying the gentle
authority that came naturally to him when his friends were hurting.
"Like I tried to catch lightning with my bare hands," Shion admitted. "The healers said I'll recover
fully, but I should avoid using Spectral Refrain for at least a week while my essence channels
stabilize."
"That's probably wise," Itsuki said, settling into another chair that Kairo had pulled over.
"Overextension injuries can have lasting consequences if they're not given time to heal
properly."
"Speaking of consequences," Kairo said, his expression growing more serious, "what happened
out there wasn't entirely your fault. Nayen fought like someone who knew exactly how to counter
echo-based abilities. Her binding sigil timing was too precise to be improvised."
"You think she's encountered Spectral Refrain before?" Takumi asked, his golden eyes
narrowing as he considered the implications.
"Or something similar enough to matter," Itsuki replied thoughtfully. "Ashendrel is a border
town—they face threats from the Beyond regularly. It's possible she's encountered essence
users with temporal manipulation abilities before."
Shion was quiet for a moment, his teal eyes distant as he processed what had happened during
the match. "There was something else," he said finally. "Near the end, when her flames were
disrupting my echo timing, I caught glimpses of... other battles. Fragments of combat that felt
familiar but weren't from our fight."
"Echoes from someone else?" Itsuki asked, leaning forward with interest.
"Maybe. Or echoes from different timelines entirely." Shion's voice held the uncertainty of
someone trying to describe experiences that existed beyond normal perception. "My ability
doesn't usually work that way, but the overextension might have opened connections I'm not
supposed to have access to."
"That's... unsettling," Kairo said quietly. "Temporal abilities are dangerous enough when they're
working properly. If yours is starting to show you alternate possibilities..."
"It's something to discuss with your parents when we get back to Mistfall," Itsuki said firmly.
"Both Naria and Dael have experience with unusual essence phenomena. They'll know what
precautions to take."
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps beyond the
infirmary's entrance. The curtain parted again to admit a figure that made all four young men
straighten with automatic respect—Instructor Amari Unil, accompanied by two other individuals
whose bearing marked them as fellow members of Zenkai Dojo's teaching staff.
"Mr. Enther," Amari said as he approached the bed, his voice carrying professional concern
mixed with genuine warmth. "How are you recovering?"
"Better, sir," Shion replied, struggling to sit up more fully despite the healing apparatus that
surrounded him. "The healers say I should be ready to resume normal activities within a few
days."
"Good. What you experienced was essence overextension of a particularly severe type—trying
to maintain complex temporal manipulations under sustained assault can cause feedback loops
that stress your ability's core foundations." Amari's expression grew more serious as he
continued. "However, your recovery isn't the only reason for our visit."
He gestured to his companions—a middle-aged woman with silver-streaked hair and knowing
eyes, and a younger man whose scarred hands suggested extensive combat experience. "This
is Instructor Kesia Thorne, our specialist in temporal and dimensional abilities, and Combat
Master Vex Raylan, who handles advanced tactical analysis."
"Pleased to meet you," Itsuki said with a respectful bow that his friends quickly mirrored.
"The pleasure is ours," Instructor Thorne replied, her voice carrying the melodic quality that
often accompanied those whose abilities involved time manipulation. "We've been reviewing the
essence resonance data from today's trials, and there are several anomalies that warrant
discussion."
Combat Master Raylan stepped forward, his scarred features serious as he consulted a
crystalline device that displayed shifting patterns of light. "Mr. Enther's match showed unusual
temporal fluctuations—echo patterns that don't conform to standard Spectral Refrain
parameters. But more concerning are the essence disruptions we've detected around Mr.
Naoya's matches."
All eyes turned to Itsuki, who maintained his characteristic calm despite the sudden focus.
"What kind of disruptions?"
"Reality distortions," Instructor Thorne said quietly. "Subtle alterations in the fundamental
properties of space, time, and causality that don't match any known ability classification. The
Eclipser marked you as 'unknown' for good reason—your Abstract Shift appears to operate
through principles that we're only beginning to understand."
"Is that dangerous?" Takumi asked, his protective instincts clearly activated by the serious tone
of the conversation.
"Unknown," Combat Master Raylan replied honestly. "Which is precisely why it's concerning.
Most abilities, no matter how rare or powerful, operate within predictable parameters. They
follow rules that can be studied, understood, and countered if necessary. But what we're seeing
from Mr. Naoya suggests something that exists outside those normal constraints."
Amari moved closer to Itsuki's chair, his expression carrying the weight of difficult decisions.
"There's something else. The essence disturbances around your matches aren't isolated
events—similar anomalies have been detected at sites throughout Astralyn over the past few
months. Ancient places are showing signs of awakening, and power sources that have been
dormant for millennia are beginning to stir."
"You think Itsuki's ability is connected to these other disturbances?" Kairo asked, his amber
eyes sharp with concern for his friend.
"We don't know," Instructor Thorne admitted. "But the timing is too significant to ignore. And
there are... other factors at play that complicate the situation."
She exchanged a meaningful look with her colleagues before continuing. "We've received
reports from Beyond Order scouts about increased activity in the unexplored regions. Ancient
structures that were previously inactive are now showing signs of life, and essence flows that
have been stable for centuries are beginning to shift in ways that suggest major changes are
coming."
The infirmary fell silent as the implications of her words sank in. These weren't just academic
concerns about a student's unusual abilities—they were warnings about fundamental changes
to the nature of reality itself.
"What does this mean for the trials?" Shion asked quietly.
"They'll continue as scheduled," Amari replied. "But with increased monitoring and additional
safety precautions. What we're seeing here may be connected to larger forces, but that doesn't
diminish the importance of identifying and training the next generation of exceptional warriors."
As the instructors prepared to leave, Combat Master Raylan turned back to address them one
final time. "All of you have shown remarkable potential today. But potential without proper
guidance can be dangerous—to yourselves and to others. Take these warnings seriously, and
remember that true strength comes from understanding not just what you can do, but what you
should do."
After the instructors departed, the four friends sat in contemplative silence. The weight of what
they'd learned settled around them like a heavy cloak, transforming their understanding of what
the trials represented and what their futures might hold.
"So," Takumi said finally, his attempt at lightness not quite masking his concern, "anyone else
feeling like we might be in over our heads?"
"We've been in over our heads since the moment we decided to participate," Kairo replied with a
slight smile. "The question is whether we're going to sink or learn to swim."
"We'll learn," Itsuki said quietly, his ice-blue eyes holding the certainty that came from deep
conviction. "Whatever these changes mean, whatever challenges are coming, we'll face them
together."
The transition came without warning, as such things often did when the boundaries between
reality and vision grew thin.
One moment, Itsuki was sitting in the healing amber light of the infirmary, surrounded by his
closest friends and the lingering scents of medicinal herbs. The next, he stood in a realm of
perfect whiteness that stretched infinitely in all directions—a void so complete and pristine that it
seemed to exist outside the normal flow of time and space.
This was not sleep, nor was it a dream in any conventional sense. The whiteness around him
held substance and weight, and his footsteps produced actual sounds despite the absence of
any visible surface to walk upon. The air itself seemed to be made of crystallized possibility,
each breath carrying the taste of potential futures and forgotten pasts.
Floating in the endless expanse before him were objects that defied the normal rules of
existence. Clocks with hands that moved backward, their faces showing times that had never
existed. Hourglasses filled with sand that flowed upward, carrying moments back into the realm
of possibility. Mirrors that reflected not his current appearance, but versions of himself from
different ages and circumstances—all of them watching him with expressions that ranged from
curiosity to concern.
"Not ready," said a voice that carried the weight of centuries despite its familiar tone.
Itsuki turned toward the sound and found himself facing a mirror larger than any of the
others—its surface showing not his reflection, but something far more unsettling. An aged
version of himself stood within the glass, his white hair now pure silver, his ice-blue eyes holding
depths of knowledge that spoke to experiences beyond mortal comprehension. This older Itsuki
wore robes that seemed to be cut from the fabric of reality itself, their patterns shifting between
representations of time, space, and the abstract concepts that lay beneath both.
"Not ready for what?" Itsuki asked, though part of him already suspected the answer would be
more disturbing than illuminating.
"For the choice that's coming," his reflection replied, stepping closer to the mirror's surface until
it seemed they could almost touch. "For the weight of what you'll become, and the price of what
you'll leave behind."
The white realm around them began to shift, and suddenly Itsuki could see beyond the
immediate void. Images flashed through the pristine space—glimpses of frozen peaks and
ancient temples, of battles fought with powers that made his current abilities seem like children's
games, of a presence so vast and cold that it seemed to drain meaning from existence itself.
"Raezthera," his older self whispered, and the name carried resonances that made the white
realm tremble. "The first of them stirs, and with his awakening comes the attention of others who
have slept too long. The Trueborns are not the guardians they once were, and the balance that
has protected Vilaris for millennia grows fragile."
"I don't understand," Itsuki said, though the visions around him were beginning to paint a picture
that terrified him with its implications.
"You will," the reflection replied sadly. "Sooner than any of us hoped. The trials you've been
participating in are not just tests of ability—they're selection processes for something far more
significant. And your Abstract Shift, the unknown classification that has puzzled your instructors,
is not unknown to those who matter most."
The mirror began to crack, hairline fractures spreading across its surface as the vision reached
its limits. Through the growing web of breaks, Itsuki could see his older self reaching out as if
trying to bridge the gap between them.
"Remember," the aged version of himself called out as the cracks widened, "power without
wisdom is destruction, but wisdom without power is helplessness. Find the balance, or lose
everything that matters."
The mirror shattered completely, its fragments dissolving into motes of light that spiraled upward
into the white void. Time itself seemed to accelerate around Itsuki, and he felt himself being
pulled back toward waking consciousness with a force that left him gasping and disoriented.
He woke in his own bed, in his family's home in Mistfall, with no memory of how he'd gotten
there. Dawn light filtered through his window, carrying the familiar scents of his mother's garden
and the distant sounds of the village beginning its daily routines. But the vision clung to him like
frost, its implications refusing to fade with the coming of daylight.
On his nightstand lay a sealed scroll bearing his father's personal mark—elegant script that he
recognized despite never having seen it used for formal correspondence. With hands that
trembled slightly from the lingering effects of his vision, he broke the seal and unfolded the
parchment within.
My son,
The time has come for you to understand certain truths about our family and your place in the
larger patterns that shape our world. The trials yesterday revealed capabilities that cannot
remain hidden, and there are those who will seek to use your abilities for purposes that may not
align with your own values or desires.
Travel to the northern gate at sunrise. Use the enclosed key to activate the ancient portal
there—it will take you to Raezthera, the domain of the First Trueborn. Yunrei has agreed to
meet with you, though I cannot guarantee what form that meeting will take or what demands he
may make.
Trust your instincts, honor your friends, and remember that strength without purpose is merely
another form of weakness.
Your father, Kaito Naoya
Beneath the letter lay a crystalline key that pulsed with inner light—clearly an artifact of
considerable power and age. As Itsuki's fingers closed around it, he felt a resonance with his
Abstract Shift ability that confirmed his father's instructions were genuine.
The northern gate stood at the edge of Mistfall's boundaries, where the familiar paths gave way
to regions that few villagers ever explored. The ancient portal was carved from a single massive
stone, its surface covered with runic script that predated even the oldest records in Astralyn's
archives. As Itsuki inserted the crystal key into a hidden receptacle, the entire structure began to
glow with ethereal light.
The transition was instantaneous and completely disorienting. One moment he stood on familiar
ground beneath Mistfall's perpetual mist, and the next he found himself in a realm of impossible
beauty and ancient power.
Raezthera stretched before him like a crystallized dream, its landscape composed of floating ice
formations that defied gravity and logic in equal measure. Temples carved from living glacier
drifted through air that sparkled with essence-charged snowflakes, their spires reaching toward
a sky that showed the deep blue-black of eternal twilight. The very ground beneath his feet was
composed of ice so pure it was perfectly transparent, revealing depths that seemed to extend
infinitely downward.
"Itsuki Naoya."
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, carrying harmonics that resonated with the
frozen landscape around him. As he turned toward its source, a figure materialized from the
essence-charged air—tall, ethereal, and possessed of a presence that made the ancient portal
seem like a crude child's toy by comparison.
Yunrei, the First Trueborn, appeared exactly as the oldest descriptions suggested—ageless
features that held the weight of millennia, green hair and eyes that seemed to contain the
essence of time itself, and robes that shifted between representing the past, present, and future
simultaneously. But it was the aura of controlled power around him that truly marked him as
something beyond mortal understanding.
"You are earlier than expected," Yunrei said, his voice carrying notes of approval mixed with
concern. "The Worlde stirs, and with it comes attention that you are not yet prepared to handle.
But circumstances have accelerated beyond our careful plans."
"What Worlde?" Itsuki asked, though part of him already suspected the answer would reshape
everything he thought he understood about his abilities.
"Yours," Yunrei replied simply. "Abstract Shift is not merely the manipulation of conceptual
properties—it is the foundation stone upon which reality rests. In the wrong hands, or wielded
without proper understanding, it could unravel the very fabric of Vilaris itself."
The implications hit Itsuki like a physical blow. His ability, the unknown classification that had
puzzled the Eclipser, was potentially the most dangerous power in existence. And somehow,
through circumstances he couldn't begin to understand, it had manifested in a
seventeen-year-old boy from a small village who had never aspired to anything more than
admission to a respected training academy.
"The choice is coming," Yunrei continued, his ancient eyes holding depths of sadness that
spoke to decisions made and prices paid over countless centuries. "Others are stirring—some
who would guide you, and others who would use you. But ultimately, the path you walk must be
your own."
Far beneath the conscious realm of Vilaris, in a void carved from the absence of memory itself,
another Trueborn contemplated changes that rippled through the fabric of existence.
The space around Tsuyari existed in a state of perpetual negation—not darkness, for darkness
implied the possibility of light, but rather the complete absence of illumination or its conceptual
framework. Here, in the realm he had shaped from the forgotten dreams of those he had
erased, symbols flickered in and out of existence like dying stars.
Each symbol represented a life, a memory, a fragment of meaning that he had carefully
extracted from the world above. They danced around him in patterns that would have driven
mortal minds to madness, their interactions governed by principles that existed only in the
spaces between thought and oblivion.
"The boy awakens to his nature," a familiar voice observed from the void around him.
Tsuyari turned toward the sound, though in this place direction held no meaning. Yunrei stood
within the negation space, his temporal abilities allowing him to exist simultaneously in multiple
realities—a trick that Tsuyari found both impressive and annoying.
"Earlier than anticipated," Tsuyari replied, his own voice carrying the weight of absolute erasure.
"But not soon enough to matter. The pattern unfolds as it must, and his awakening serves our
purposes as much as yours."
"Does it?" Yunrei asked, stepping closer through the void with movements that left temporary
rifts in the fabric of non-existence. "Or are you simply telling yourself that to justify what you're
planning?"
Around them, the dancing symbols began to coalesce into more recognizable
patterns—memories drawn from the minds of those who had fallen to Tsuyari's Oblivionlace
ability. Images of battle, of triumph, of love and loss, all reduced to components in his vast
collection of stolen experiences.
"Mizuko stirs in her depths," Tsuyari said, ignoring Yunrei's question. "And Rinako's dreams
grow restless with prophecy. Even Kurojin's perfect prisons show signs of strain. The old
balance fails, brother, and new arrangements must be made."
"New arrangements that conveniently place you at their center," Yunrei observed dryly.
"I will be the last one standing," Tsuyari replied with certainty that carried the weight of absolute
conviction. "When the world forgets itself, when memory becomes meaningless and existence
fades into the comfort of oblivion, I alone will remain to shepherd the final darkness."
The void around them pulsed with malevolent energy as more symbols joined the dance—these
ones drawn not from past victims, but from possible futures where Tsuyari's vision had come to
pass. Worlds where memory had been systematically erased, where the very concept of identity
had been dissolved, where existence itself had been reduced to a single point of consciousness
floating in perfect emptiness.
"The trials above continue," Yunrei said quietly, his presence beginning to fade as he prepared
to return to the realm of temporal flow. "But they're no longer just tests of ability. They've
become recruitment efforts for the war you're determined to start."
"War implies opposition," Tsuyari replied as his brother's image disappeared entirely. "There will
be no war—only the gentle forgetting of all things that have caused pain."
Alone again in his realm of negation, Tsuyari returned his attention to the dancing symbols
around him. Somewhere among their flickering patterns lay the key to unraveling everything that
Vilaris had built, everything that the Trueborns had protected, and everything that gave meaning
to existence itself.
The boy with his Abstract Shift ability was indeed a crucial piece in the pattern, but not in the
way that Yunrei imagined. Power that could rewrite the fundamental nature of reality would
serve admirably as the tool for its ultimate erasure.
Soon, Tsuyari thought as the void pulsed around him with anticipatory hunger. Very soon, the
world would begin to forget itself, and in that forgetting would find the peace that only oblivion
could provide.
The last dance was about to begin.